The Dark Lord returns to Godric Hollow to collect his Heir.

I just want to shout out a huge ‘Thank You’ to all who’ve taken the time and read this fic and reviewed. Such great comments, and observations—some which are spot on and will make an appearance later on into this story. Again, the characters don’t belong to me.

The remainder of Hermione’s time at Godric’s Hollow went by fairly quickly. Madeline had made sure to send her off with some extra reading material, and told her to owl should she have any questions. Her Father had come to see her once briefly, to let her know he would be retrieving her at the end of the week. He’d made no further inference as to what that entailed exactly, and where they would be going. Hermione had written to her adoptive parents, and told them that she’d been given another opportunity to study with a different magical sponsor. Their response was expected, if slightly hurtful—in that they were happy for her to have the opportunity, but didn’t ask when she’d be returning home.

Their lack of interest bothered her, more than she let on.

When Madeline hugged her goodbye, Hermione headed for the cemetery, where her Father had indicated he’d be waiting for her. Walking though the gates, she wandered around for a bit, when she noticed a grave marker with the name of Ignotus Peverell. The name was somewhat familiar, but it was the marking on the grave that caught her attention...

It was the same rune as the one used by Grindewald and Dumbledore.

How was this linked to the Peverell family?

Hearing muffled steps behind her, Hermione turned around to face her Father, who was watching her with a ghost of a smile on his face.

“Find something interesting, child?”

Hermione shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “Not really, just intrigued with how old some of these markers are. I wasn’t aware Godric’s Hollow had hosted so many distinguished Wizarding families, many of whom are no longer.”

Her Father gestured for her to follow him, which she eagerly did.

“From what I understand, it’s one of the more noted Wizarding villages in Britain. Have you made arrangements with your parents?” He sneered disdainfully.

She nodded. “Yes. They actually seemed relieved that I wouldn’t be returning as promised.”

“Hmmm. And how do you feel about that, young Hermione?” Her Father watched her from the corner of his eye.

“I suppose it’s to be expected. We’ve been growing apart since the truth of my adoption was revealed. They are good people who have provided well for me, but it’s clear beyond that we have little in common these days.”

“And that concerns you?”

“Not as much as it used to.” Hermione shook her head in exasperation. “I’m sure they mean well, but when I told them I was offered another sponsorship? They didn’t even ask the particulars. I know they have no interest in the magical world, and they were the ones who introduced me to Mrs. White in the first place. But, I’m finding the older I get? The greater the distance between us becomes. It’s inevitable, I suppose.” She looked at her Father, who was listening with polite interest. “If I may, Sir? I have a few questions before we leave, if that’s alright?”

Her Father stopped, turned to give her undivided attention. With a short nod, Hermione took a bracing breath. “First, what would you prefer I call you formally? I don’t want to assume anything, and I would like to call you something more than ‘Sir’ if you’re agreeable? Second, I was curious where we will be headed and how long I’ll be staying with you?”

Her Father gazed down at her with a small smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. “What would you feel comfortable calling me, daughter?”

Hermione grinned impishly. “Well, if you aren’t comfortable with ‘Father, Dad, Daddy or Papa’ then perhaps some other moniker might be more suitable.”

Her Father chuckled darkly, “You are a cheeky little thing, aren’t you? Most people run in fear from me, but you have the gall to tease me. I’m not sure if I approve, and I may punish you later.” He finished quite harshly, watching the color drain from his daughter’s rosy cheeks. He noticed her entire demeanor change in an instant. Gone was the playful glint in her eyes, now appearing expressionless and dead. Her face gave away no emotion at all, it was as if she’d suddenly become a completely different person. Even her aura had become cold and forbidding, and it was a stunning if not disconcerting transformation. The Dark Lord took his index finger, placing it under his daughter’s chin (she didn’t flinch) and raised her eyes to meet his.

“You are truly an intriguing individual, young Hermione. You will need to understand something about me before you agree to leave this place. Once we leave, there is no going back. You will find that I can be cruel, heartless, vindictive and unforgiving to those who deserve my wrath. You, my child, need not worry yourself over such things. You have proven your worth, but be warned? I will not tolerate disrespect from anyone, including you. In private I expect you to be yourself, in public you will behave accordingly. You will defer to me as your Paterfamilias, whether your identity is common knowledge or not. Am I clear?”

Hermione nodded, keeping eye contact. “Yes, Sir.”

The Dark Lord sighed.

He didn’t have a clue how to deal with a child, much less a daughter of surpassing beauty and intellect.

“In private you may call me Father only. None of those other ridiculous monikers.” Hermione smiled slightly and nodded. “In front of my followers you will address me as ‘My Lord’ as all who serve me do. Or ‘Father’ should the situation call for it. As to where we are going? I’m taking you to the home of a servant who has assured me that you would be most welcome. It would seem, Daughter? That you were quite busy this year blackmailing a few of my most trusted followers. I should be angry, if I weren’t so impressed by your cunning and ingenuity. As for how long you will be staying, that is as yet, undetermined.”

Hermione shrugged in response. “They deserved it. Please tell me you at least crucio’d them for their insolence, Father.”

The Dark Lord laughed at his young daughter’s lack of remorse in manipulating and handing out retribution to those who’d wronged her.

She truly was a delight.

“I’m sure they did, and yes—I made my displeasure known most viciously, my dear. Come now, we are expected and it is rude to be late.”

Extending his hand, Hermione took it with confidence smirking up at her father in response.

The two vanished into thin air without a sound.